


Fallout 4tober Prompts

by Nuke



Category: Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:55:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 11,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26764666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuke/pseuds/Nuke
Summary: A place to organize the things I'm writing for Fallout 4tober, a list of prompts by LookBlueSoup on tumblr! They will all be in the world of my whack-ass fanfic so prepare for that.
Comments: 24
Kudos: 11





	1. Better Living, Underground

In her previous life, Revy had only heard passing tales of Vaults. They were supposed to be safe havens, far underground and far away from the threats of the Wasteland.

But in her newer life, they were much more real. As she grew older, her mother brought her along on supply delivery missions. The Minutemen had vowed to help  _everyone_ in the Wasteland, and even the reclusive Vault Dwellers learned to accept assistance. Revy's mother, their esteemed General, preferred to make the visits personal.

She watched in awe as the huge door opened. It was quite the production with all its hydraulics and sirens. Hating all the noise, she clung to her mother.

"It's alright," She assured her, glancing down at their other companion. "You know Giskard would tell us if there was any danger."

The mechanical dog, with his amazing strength, enjoyed his part-time job as a cart-puller. He was usually much faster than a Brahmin, and a lot less stubborn.

Revy wasn't sure what to expect when the Vault's Overseer greeted them at the door, and she was surprised to see a completely normal woman. The jumpsuit was weird, she thought, but only because of its striking cleanliness.

The two adults exchanged words and supplies. Somehow, the Wasteland above could procure things that a Vault could not.

After handing over a few more things, the Overseer invited them into the Vault for a visit.

The General agreed, but everyone else hesitated.

"Oh," the Overseer grimaced at Giskard. "That thing will have to stay out here. It's quite scary."

"He's my dog," Revy snapped defensively. "He's not gonna bite anybody."

"Let's just follow their rules, Revy." Her mother's tone held obvious annoyance, but it was directed forward, into the Vault.

Being only around ten years old, Revy was convinced she would never quite understand adults.

The Vault was so bright and clean that Revy tried to cover her other eye with her hair. Never in her life had she seen artificial lights so bright, and metal so shiny.

She hated it.

The General spoke with the Overseer about things that Revy deemed completely unimportant, so she snuck away to explore. There were people everywhere, all dressed in the same jumpsuit. Even some children!

But they all gave her the same look - disgust. They flinched when she went near them, and she swore she even heard some call her "dirty".

Her clothes were a little rough, but not filthy. And her hair was a mess, but she'd just washed it that morning. She wondered if they'd call Giskard  _dirty_ too. Or her father. Surely, they wouldn't be fans of her Uncle Nick.

After just a few minutes, the lights were giving her a headache. Annoyed, she stomped back to where she had last seen her mother - some kind of big open room.

Frowning, she took a seat across from the Overseer.

"Did you look around?" Her mother asked, sounding too cheerful.

"It's too bright," she said, staring at the table. "My head hurts."

The General apologized to the Overseer, but Revy wasn't sure what for. Soon enough they were leaving.

Giskard was right where they left him, and his tail wagged at the sight of them. Sensing Revy's discomfort, he gently nudged her onto his back as he started pulling the cart away from the entrance. It closed noisily behind them.

"Vaults are bad," Revy said after a few minutes. "I hate them."

Her mother laughed. "Trust me, I hate them too!"

Shocked, she looked up. "Really?"

"Ugh, they're terrible." She made that face, a wry expression that she always wore when talking something like the Brotherhood of Steel. "They're such goddamn know-it-alls. Turn their noses up at everything."

Clinging to Giskard, Revy smiled. "Yeah," she agreed. "I like it up here better." She thought about her family, and everyone else at the Castle. They always smiled at newcomers and visitors, and they would  _never_ tell someone's dog to stay outside. The Vault may have had clean clothes and fancier food, but Revy liked her Wasteland just the way it was.  _Hers._


	2. Radstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Partially inspired by my experience with extremely traumatic medical procedures. Ha. Nothing actually helps except the end.

_Click, click, click._

The sound of the Geiger counter on Danse's suit was rhythmic, and almost comforting.

Almost.

A radstorm, they called it. Just another new, terrible thing Nuke had to get used to in the world she now found herself in. She had seen a few of them on the horizon, but was able to retreat into the Prydwen when they got too close. Luckily, the ship provided plenty of shielding.

But they weren't on the ship for this one.

It was just the two of them - Paladin Danse and Knight Nuke - on what was supposed to be a quick scouting mission. Nuke wanted to make a nasty comment about no one having checked the weather report; of course, there was no such thing anymore. The two of them were huddled inside of an abandoned train car. Despite barely fitting, Danse did what he could to seal up the cracks in the walls.

Nuke stayed huddled in the corner, behind a dozen crates, ordered by her  _superior_ to not move.

He couldn't help it. He had his power armor, and had brought his helmet this time, luckily. Nuke was completely exposed, and hadn't developed the assumed resistance to radiation that everyone else in the world had. Finally, when he had done all he could to secure their shelter, he joined her within the maze of debris.

She was pouting. "I can just take Radaway or something back up on the ship, right?"

"That doesn't matter." Danse positioned himself around her defensively, getting as close as he could. "It's still harmful."

Barely convinced but not a fool, Nuke leaned against the hulking frame of power armor.

_Click, click, clickclick..._

Distorted thunder roared above them, and the wind began to howl. The train car rattled and shook.

It only took a minute or two for Nuke's stomach to turn. She felt invisible pins and needles prickling at every inch of her skin, and she huddled into herself for more protection.  _"Shit,"_ she muttered. "This already sucks."

Not sure what else to do, Danse gently put his arms around her. Of course she had refused the suggestion for  _her_ to wear his power armor. She never seemed to care what happened to herself, as long as those around her were safe. Mentally, Danse cursed her pre-War compassion. All he could think to say was, "It will be over soon."

The storm dragged. The hour crawled by. Some wind gusts threatened to knock the train car clean over, and sometimes it was lifted off one set of wheels.

Nuke had her forehead pressed to the metal floor, her teeth barred and clenched.  _What a goddam nightmare,_ she snapped in her head, too nauseous to say anything out loud. She was holding her stomach and her head was spinning in circles. When Danse spoke something vaguely comforting to her, she barely heard it. Her skin was  _burning._

An hour? An  _hour?_ She tried to ask, but her mouth wouldn't work. It felt frozen shut. Radstorms usually last an hour, Danse had told her. An average. But they could go longer.

She was counting the seconds, counting her breaths, trying to tap a finger on the floor to have an auditory cue.  _Anything._ Normally she liked thunderstorms, but she wasn't sure if she ever could, again.

"People just  _live_ with these?" She heard her own voice, but wasn't sure if Danse did. It sickened her somehow further to think that this was just a part of life now. Yet another horrific, dangerous, harmful part of life.

She fought with all her strength to stay conscious.

_Click, click, click..._


	3. Lantern Light

There was power at the Castle. The whole place had been strung up with an electrical system before it fell - after being reclaimed, it was just a matter of fixing broken wires and busted generators.

But power lines, especially in the Commonwealth, could be unreliable. One heavy storm, thankfully not a radstorm, could take out the whole place.

Preston rubbed his temples and scowled at the mess. Lines down everywhere, at least two generators out of commission, and the radio tower had been completely destroyed.

"Hell of a storm," the General said casually, but she sighed deeply. "We'll fix this all up. You go sit down, Preston."

"I should really help-"

"You have an appointment, don't you?"

He gave the General a quizzical look. She was smiling at him like nothing was wrong, so he just shrugged. "Alright. If you say so, General."

She watched him leave, leaning on her cane. As the General, she couldn't let him shirk any duties. Even the seemingly less important ones.

He knew Revy didn't like the dark, but he had never seen her so scared. It took nearly five minutes for him to coax her out from under the bed.

"Uncle Preston," she whined, grasping for his hand in the black room. "Where's the lights? Why's there no light?"

"It's alright," He told her, gently leading her to the table in the center of the room. He knew the room well enough. "Just have a seat and we'll still have your lesson, okay?"

"But I can't see." One tiny left eye still covered by messy hair, she stumbled up onto the chair and rested her arms on the table. "How am I gonna read?"

Preston's eyes were better with dark, and they adjusted quickly. Fumbling with the glass object on the table, he finally struck his target, and light bloomed from it.

Revy gasped and nearly fell off the chair, but she steadied herself and leaned toward it.

"You've seen lanterns before, right?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I think we had one at my old house, but it was pretty broken." Bobbing her head back and forth, she realized something. "That's like the Railroad. Mister Deacon taught me to draw one."

Pulling up the chair next to her, Preston smiled. "They use it as a symbol, because it's a guiding light in the dark. See? Even though all our normal lights went out, we still have this, so it's not so scary."

Hesitantly, she nodded again. She was still scared of the darkness at the edges of the room, but Preston's presence helped calm her. Finally her focus turned to the book in front of her.

"Alright. We'll start here. Can you tell me what all the letters in that first word are?"

"Mm-hmm." This part got her excited. She knew this. She just learned the last letter a couple days ago, and most of the time, she could remember them all. "That's H, then A, then L. And another L. That one's O, that's an easy one... then there's, um..."

"Take your time," He told her, patiently. There was no need to rush her learning; after all, they had a long, dark night ahead of them.

Soon, Revy didn't notice the dark much at all.


	4. Crows

Animals were returning to the Commonwealth. They had always lived there, of course, but they had really become something different. Two heads, missing fur, and extra, useless limbs... Those mutated creatures were commonplace, and usually ignored.

Until the day a single-headed radstag appeared. First, it was brushed off. Of course that couldn't happen, right? The world hadn't recovered  _nearly_ enough...

Leo saw it himself one day. His favorite responsibility was his scouting missions. Sure, he took notes on the things he was supposed to take notes about. But doodled in the margins of his papers were sketches of every animal he would come across.

Eventually his father gave him extra paper, just for his drawings, telling him they shouldn't be confined like that.

He found himself perched in a tree, frantically trying to draw the radstag with only one head. It was young - not quite a fawn, but not quite fully grown yet - and it just looked so  _beautiful._

When he looked up again, it was gone, and he cursed quietly to himself as he climbed out of the tree.

He felt lucky that he was able to go places alone. Even at age twenty, his older sister Revy was required to take Giskard with her everywhere. She was his half-sister, technically, but nobody really cared. Little things like that didn't need to matter anymore.

His father, Preston, had trained him from a young age to handle firearms. Revy hadn't taken to them despite attempts from her  _own_ father; she preferred her battles to be up close and personal.

Unfortunately, Leo wasn't quite a fan of laser muskets like his dad. Holstered inside his coat were two pistols on each side. It was enough for the scouting missions, as he wasn't allowed to do much else. Any real danger, and he had to radio home. He knew that.

But really, he just liked tracking the animals. His mission notes were bland and obviously uninterested, but his drawings were full of life and love.

He settled down onto a broken bench to watch a flock of crows. Out of the few types of birds that were left, crows seemed to thrive. Leo's mother had told him that even when  _she_ wound up in this world, they looked worse. Now, they had full sets of shiny, black feathers.

As crows usually were, this flock was up to something. About five of them were circled around something, and occasionally pecking at it.

Normally, he left animals to their business, but something didn't feel right.

"Hey," He stood and waved at them, but they ignored him. He repeated his shout, this time taking off his wide-brimmed hat and throwing it. "Knock it off!" Not even sure why he was yelling, he ran up to the huddled, pecked form as the flock scattered.

It was another crow. Alive, but weakened.

He thought back to the words of his parents. They always told him not to interfere much with nature - look where  _that_ had gotten us, they said! But he knew, deep down, that sometimes things needed a little extra help. Maybe that single crow didn't matter to the world all that much, but...

With that kind of attitude,  _nothing_ mattered.

So he picked up his hat, dusted it off, and set it back on his head. He put his hands on his hips as he stared down at the injured crow, which was looking up at him with a single black eye. "Got yourself into trouble, huh?" He asked, not even feeling silly. He knew animals liked to listen. "Wonder what you did to get them so upset with you."

The crow made a tiny sound as it tried feebly to get away from Leo's reaching arms. It felt itself wrapped up in something soft, and green... The scarf the strange human had been wearing seconds ago.

"Now don't struggle, you'll make it worse... Come on, settle down."

The crow  _wanted_ to panic. Everything else had just been trying to hurt it. Certainly,  _it_ didn't know it was different from any other crow. It couldn't have known where it was made, or for what purpose, for the Institute was barely a memory at that point.

With the crow clutched to his chest, Leo began his long walk back to the Castle. The whole time, he could feel the bird looking up at him, but it had long stopped struggling or making noise. He wasn't sure if it was  _relaxed_ exactly, but at least it wasn't causing trouble for him.

"You want a name?" Leo asked. "Mom's gonna say I can't keep you, but I know Dad's gonna give her that face and she won't be able to say no. Even if she  _is_ the General. But I mean, if you wanna go when you're better, that's fine too." He shifted the little bundle. "How about Cobalt?"

Shuddering away the last of its stress, the crow closed its eyes.


	5. Companion

"Hey."

Revy stopped.

"What are you doing out here, anyway?"

The sentence felt like more words than he'd already said to her, combined. She shrugged. "I've got something to do."

"Like run around helping strangers kill people?"

Her back still turned, she grinned. The outcome of her visit to Novac  _did_ put a smile on her face. "I guess," she half-answered. "If I feel like it. If it... aligns with my goals, or whatever." Speaking less casually made her think of her father, and she clenched her jaw. "Anyways, good luck."

"Wait."

She hadn't even started walking, and with an annoyed sigh she finally turned around.  _"What?"_

Though still a distance away, the man had come closer to her. His plain clothes were betrayed by the large rifle across his back, and the red beret on his head - though its meaning wasn't familiar to Revy. His sunglasses hid whatever emotion could be in his eyes. "You don't seem to like the Legion much, and you only just learned about them."

"Well, they'll be second on my to-do list." She put her hands on her hips. There was no reason she couldn't do a little  _cleaning up_ during her stay in the Mojave, but she had other priorities.

"I'd be interested in seeing that." His tone was sarcastic, but intrigued. He couldn't help but be a little impressed by savage young woman who had official greeted him with the phrase, "You need a throat cut?"

"Yeah?" She couldn't deny that she was a bit lonely. This stranger who called himself Boone was pretty rough around the edges, but his idea of justice seemed on track with her own. Her biggest issue was that he didn't like answer questions. Not the worst obstacle.

He seemed put off by her silence. "Well? You gonn-"

"First thing," She put out one finger and stepped forward. "I'm the fucking boss. If you're gonna follow me around, you do what I say."

_Okay,_ he thought.  _Her talking is worse than her silence._

"You wanna run off to kill some of those Legion bastards, fine with me, I don't care." She continued, "But don't expect me to wait for your revenge fantasy to be over. I've got important shit to do. I'm fine with you following me, but don't forget  _I'm_ leading. And keep your fucking hands to yourself."

If anyone else had talked to him like that, they'd have gotten through no more than half of it before a bullet shut them up. But again, Boone couldn't bring himself to even feel  _annoyed._ He liked her style, especially how she handled a knife. With barely any hesitation, he nodded. "Fine," he told her, stepping forward. "You don't have to worry about me. I'll have your back."

The last few words softened her, but she kept glaring from under her mess of hair. "Whatever. I'm already behind schedule, let's go." Having only known the man for about a week, she would normally hesitate when turning her back to him. But...

"What's your name, anyway?" He came up behind her and lowered his voice. "Just so I know what to call you." 

"Revy," She said, and that was the end of it. She knew his name - he'd only say 'Boone', and that was all she wanted to know.

"Revy," He repeated. "Got it. Lead the way."

The sun was rising, and the little town's huge monument cast a shadow over them even as it started to disappear behind them. All Revy left behind was the corpse of someone whose actions had caught up with them... and she had a feeling there would be plenty more in her wake.

But the man next to her - the one who spoke of retribution coming to him, the one who warned her to keep her distance, the one she refused to listen to...

Well, she had a feeling he  _wouldn't_ be one of those cold bodies. She kept a constant grip on her knife and looked to the dark horizon they were both heading toward.

The Mojave Wasteland was no place to be alone, after all. 


	6. Betrayal

_"Disassembly."_

Something about the word didn't sit right with X6-88. No part of the situation did. He was standing watch as ordered, unmoving, his eyes locked on the scientists hovering over the table in the center of the room.

"...For that weird one, at least. I honestly don't know if any of these synths should even be reset. We know it's been iffy before."

"What, you think they've seen too much at this point?"

The first one shrugged. "Who knows how their systems have been corrupted?"

X6's skin was crawling. He hadn't spend time within the Bioscience division in quite some time; it was very  _uncomfortable_ to hear the language they used. It was so different to how he was spoken to on the surface, particularly by Nuke. She looked him directly in the eye and called him a true person. But the Institute...

"Oh, Courser-- whatever your designation--"

He snapped to attention.

"Get us the toolset on the far table, please. This asset's going to be dissected before we make a decision on the others."

"...Sir," he replied with hesitation, though they didn't notice. He did as he was told and brought them what they requested.

Before him on the table was the form of an unconscious young woman. She looked around Nuke's age, X6 thought, though he knew she was much younger. She was a synth, after all. She couldn't have been more than a few years old, judging by the features chosen for her.

"Asset", they called her. No, "it". As they started preparing for what they barely considered surgery, they referred to a young woman as an "it" and treated her as if she were a machine being, as said before,  _disassembled._

_Rage_ started boiling in him - an emotion he didn't often feel. But the past year or so had changed him, and he was acutely aware of it. After all this time, his resolve had been shaken just enough to make him start really  _thinking._

"Courser, I gave you an order. Obey it, please."

He hadn't heard it, but he responded with "Yes, Sir" still. Something in his brain stirred, and he wondered later if it was similar to Nuke's little outbursts of daring ridiculousness. In a swift movement he had his gun drawn, and the scientists fell.

A siren immediately blared, and he froze.

_Intruder!_ the intercom squealed.  _Two hostiles! Do not engage! Head for emergency exists immediately!_

At least  _he_ didn't set off the alarm, and he knew exactly who actually had. A smile crept across his face.

He barely heard his radio hiss as Father summoned him for protection. Blankly, he replied that he would be there posthaste.

After shutting off the radio, his smirk widened. "I'll wait for her up there. She'll find me."


	7. Cambridge

"Guess they abandoned this too," Revy said with disdain, kicking at a spend laser rifle on the ground. "Not surprised."

They were at the Cambridge Police Station. Not very long ago, it had been a small base camp for the Brotherhood of Steel. In particular, it was where Revy's father had holed up for some time.

Leo, her younger brother, didn't know the place. He didn't know much about the Brotherhood's long history of tension with his mother's side of the family; no one really liked to go into the details. Not even Revy.

Scowling, she stormed into the abandoned building. It didn't quite look ransacked, but it had been stripped of everything useful. "This is how the Brotherhood works, Leo," she called back out the door. "They come in, they take everything, and they leave. No regard for anyone."

"But," Hesitantly, he stepped into the building, a hand on his hat. "They're at the airport across the harbor, right?"

Standing up taller, she pouted. "Yeah. That's even worse."

Silently, the two of them searched the building. There were a few cases of ammo that had been missed, but nothing of real value. Secretly, Revy had hoped to find something of her father's to bring back to him.

And even more secretly, she hoped that this place could become worthwhile again. Her mother told her fantastical stories of cities full of people, buildings with intact windows and properly installed lighting. She wanted to write it off as a simple bedtime story; how could this world have  _ever_ been so beautiful?

Next to her was standing some sort of answer. Leo didn't have an ounce of anger in his heart. Just like his father, he was hopeful and kind at every possible opportunity. While Revy scorned the destruction and harm, Leo saw only the potential. He started making comments about the building, how it was still pretty fortified and could be taken over as a base again. How it, like so many things, could be redeemed.

But Revy barely believed in redemption. Sure, the occasional raider would give up their awful lifestyle and beg to join the Minutemen. But on the whole, she didn't trust people. Not after what they'd done to her, her parents, and the whole world.

And she especially didn't trust the Brotherhood of Steel to fix a damn thing.

"Come on, Leo," She grabbed his arm and tugged at him after they had spent almost an hour searching around. "Let's just get outta here."

Outside, by an opening in the building's makeshift defensive wall, sat Giskard. His red eyes had thoroughly scanned the area before letting his wards anywhere near it, of course. He could detect Revy's bad mood from across the station's yard, so he tried wagging his tail to cheer her up.

She didn't notice. With narrowed eyes she took one final look at the building behind her before walking past the gate.

Leo looked back for a little bit longer, but finally tore himself away at Giskard's urging.


	8. Darkness Falls

The night was particularly dark. Clouds choked out the stars, and the moon had long set. Having no way to accurately tell the time, Revy guessed it had to be around three in the morning.

She was gazing out over the harbor, at the dim light of the ever-awake airport. The Brotherhood apparently had the resources to spare even after losing their ship; the Minutemen kept the Castle as dark as possible at night to conserve their energy.

God, did she hate them. And she could never tell either of her parents. Even her mother, for some reason, didn't hold as much anger toward them as Revy did, and she couldn't understand why.  _Why_ was she so damn  _angry_ at them, almost always?

It had gotten worse as she got older. She had a few reasons to be annoyed with them, but none of them really added up to how she felt. Surely the exile and near-murder of her father contributed a lot, and a huge annoyance came from seeing them do next to nothing with their technology. While the Minutemen struggled to make life worth living for many Wastelanders, sometimes draining the Castle's own food supply to feed a settlement, the Brotherhood just kept their damn lights on all night.

She scoffed and bumped her head back against the Castle wall. There was maybe a foot of land between the toe of her boot and where the harbor began. Off to her left, a bridge lay in a half-built state. The Brotherhood had long given up on their side.

The only other light was beside her, coming from Giskard's red eyes. He, too, was staring out across the water, silent aside from his occasional mechanical whir.

"Where do  _you_ think Maxson's run off to?" She asked, her eyes still locked on the airport.

He couldn't answer her, of course, but he growled quietly. In his opinion, things were quieter than they should have been, considering the Brotherhood's beloved Elder had up and vanished over a week prior.

"He's not dead," Revy declared. "That much I know. That man's too annoying to die... in Mom's words."

If he could have, Giskard would have laughed. He agreed with the General on that one.

"No one else seems keen on going to look for him."

He heard what she was implying in her thoughts. He had so many questions for her, and could ask none of them.

"You can't go with me." Over the years, she had picked up on a fraction of Giskard's abilities. "You'd be helpful, but would also put a target on my back. Stay here and protect Mom and Dad."

He let out a low whine.

"You heard me, bud. Just me this time."

The truth was that they hadn't been apart for any significant amount of time in  _years._ By Giskard's estimating, Revy had to be about twenty-two years old at that point, and they had met when she was around six. The time itself didn't matter much to Giskard - when he looked at Revy, he still saw the unsure face of a lost child. He had heard the same sort of statement from her parents, and assumed it was something that would simply never change.

"Okay, fine." She sighed at Giskard's continued whining. "You can come with me for a  _while._ But after a certain point you gotta go back, okay? Go back and tell Uncle Sturges where I headed and why. And tell him not to let anyone follow me."

His tail wagged despite being given quite the distressing order. Whatever the future held, he was happy he wouldn't be separated from her quite yet.

And he hoped it would never be permanent.


	9. New Purpose

The mountain lion was there when they set out. It was sitting right outside the entrance to the Castle, staring through Revy with its blank, white eyes.

Revy had packed as much as she could reasonably carry, and was perched on Giskard's back. They stopped when they saw the ghostly figure before them.

When it turned and headed west, they followed it.

The spirit made its silent way across Boston, occasionally looking back to ensure it was still being followed.

Every time it looked back, Giskard growled. He hated that he could see it, but not smell it. It was something that moved and acknowledged them, but it wasn't alive. Not even  _partially_ alive, like he was. It was  _nothing._

But still, they followed it. Revy had been seeing the damned thing for over a decade; it would appear now and then, perched on the high walls of the Castle, staring down at her. It always watched her movement.

Revy didn't like thinking about how her mother could no longer see it. Since it first appeared to her in the Commonwealth instead of the Island, it had been invisible to everyone who had previously seen it. Except for Revy.

And now, finally, it was leading her somewhere. It never spoke to her, but she knew to follow it. Revy also knew, somehow, to call it a  _she_ rather than an  _it_ , but she hated the implications. She knew animals weren't so intelligent as to act the way this one did - so was it really the ghost of an animal?

The night was becoming foggy, but there was no moon to reflect off it it. Though even if Revy's sight was impaired, Giskard read the world differently. His visual trackers were locked onto the somehow-detectable form of the lion.

Boston was quiet. The lion led them away from places more prone to commotion, and the trip was uneventful. At some points it picked up speed and the pair followed suit. If it darted in an odd direction, they followed it effortlessly, having no idea if they were evading danger or being tested.

Eventually their course veered south. The sun had begun to rise, and the three of them had been at a running speed for nearly half an hour.

Revy eventually realized that they were no longer in the Commonwealth.

They finally stopped for good after nearly a day of travel. Luckily, the spirit halted when Giskard did, to allow his rider to rest.

The world, so far away, was still a mess. In a way it was similar to the Commonwealth, but many things felt different. The air itself was different.

Revy dismounted Giskard and followed the lion slowly. Its behavior had become almost erratic, and its appearance was changing to almost  _solid-looking_ state. The sight of it made Revy's stomach turn, but she couldn't stop herself from going after it.

They were winding through the streets of a former city. It was later afternoon, and there were no signs of life. Whatever the place had been, it hadn't been deemed viable for resettlement, apparently.

The lion came to a very sudden halt in the middle of a plaza. She turned and looked at Revy with blue eyes that looked alive.

Even Giskard flinched. His growls grew louder.

"What the hell  _are_ you?" Revy asked, afraid to take another step toward it. She remembered the story her mother told her of when she first met this spirit lion - how it had sniffed at her chest, and the Brotherhood holotags she always wore became as cold as ice in an instant.

Something about the lion's suddenly blue eyes made Revy's blood run just as cold.

Before Revy could repeat her question, the lion opened her mouth. She said something - words, in a true voice. She spoke to Revy with just a few pointed words. A question.

And as she spoke, she began to dissipate like smoke.

Expecting an empty space, Revy's heart lurched in her chest at the sight of a human figure standing before her, those same blue eyes staring sharply forward.


	10. Crustacean

"You've gotta be resourceful out here. Okay? Someday I won't be here to help you out."

The young Leo, barely eight years old, cringed at the sight in front of him. His older sister, in her infinite rage, had killed a Mirelurk, and was gutting it.

"Are you watching? Look, this stuff is hard as a rock. It can be great armor!"

He shook his head and closed his eyes.  _No, no thank you_ , was all he could think. There were plenty of suits of power armor he could wear later. He had no interest in  _this._

Revy, unphased, raised an eyebrow when she saw him cowering. "What? What's the matter?"

Again he shook his head, refusing to look. "I don't... like to kill things."

"...It's just a  _Mirelurk."_

"But it was alive." He bit his lip. It wasn't the first time he'd been in a situation like that. Even his father told him not to have sympathy for something so mutated and monstrous. But he just couldn't help it.

Sighing, Revy jumped from the top of the creature and tried to clean herself off. "I know it's tough. But guess what? This world's tough. It sucks. Don't you wanna be General someday?"

Meekly, he nodded, finally opening his eyes.

"You're gonna have to shoot stuff. Even people. You know mom has."

"I don't wanna think about it."

Revy pouted. It was hard for her, having such an age gap with her brother. She adored him, but someone had to teach him the reality of the world. Who knows if his father would always be there for him, to fill his head with way too much dreamy positivity?

"Okay," Revy said after a long while. "Fine, just help me drag this thing back to the Castle. I won't make you cut it up."

That, he could agree to. Though he still hated to see the thing's mangled corpse, he didn't mind fitting it with ropes. The knots he tied were meticulous and secure.

Noticing it, Revy complimented him lightly. Even though Leo was so young, she could already tell he wouldn't be the type of General their mother was. If he became General at all. Obviously as a small child, he didn't quite have the knack for it. She wondered, though, if it was really worth trying to toughen him up so much. She hated to see him look so sad.

But as he started pulling on the Mirelurk, he seemed to cheer up. It wasn't a large one, so the two of them could handle it. He glanced at her as they made their way back to the Castle and asked, "Do you think this thing could help someone?"

"I know your dad likes to eat 'em."

He cringed. "I mean, if he  _likes_ it..."

Revy felt almost jealous of him. He'd been born into safety, security, peace. When she was his age, she had already seen enough death and destruction for a lifetime. And here he was, squeamish about eating animals...

Despite herself, she freed a hand for a second and patted him on the shoulder. Even if she didn't quite have the words for it, she knew her little brother would be alright.

He was a different kind of person than her, for sure.


	11. The Vigilant

Giskard paced the Castle walls impatiently. The Prydwen had been down for three days, and everyone was still on high alert. The General and Elder Maxson were injured, along with countless other Brotherhood soldiers - at least, the ones who had survived the initial blast.

The dog couldn't seem to avert his gaze from the Boston airport. Something about the whole situation bothered him, besides the obvious. The Brotherhood was in complete disarray, and the ruins of the ship were still smoldering.

Curiosity got the best of him, and he decided to investigate for himself.

He wasn't very familiar with the Prydwen before it fell. He had seen it in the distance, and hadn't ever developed a real opinion on it. All he knew was that Revy found it  _ugly -_ a word that didn't have much meaning to him.

The skeletal remains of the ship would have been impossible for a human to navigate. Its metal bones stuck out in every direction, twisted and gnarled like the blasted trees dotting the Commonwealth. Occasionally Giskard would spot something familiar - the frame of a bed, or a stray bottle - but most of it had been devoured by the harbor.

As he took careful, calculated steps across the ruined ship, Giskard suddenly heard something.

He whirled around, defensive. Synth voices had a very particular sound in his head - all nearly alike except for slight variances that only  _he_ could determine. Not at all like true voices, and he would never be able to explain it to someone else. Even if he  _could_ speak.

An emotion as similar to relief as possible washed over him at the sight of Danse on the closest shore. Wagging his tail, he made his way over to him as quickly as possible, careful as always not to speak to him. It was usually a reflex, but around Danse, he had to control himself.

"You're far from home," Danse said with a relatively new fondness. He patted the mechanical dog on the head. "I wonder what you think of all this."

Giskard knew that Danse could tell something was wrong, too. Danse knew the Prydwen intimately; he had lived on it for quite some time, and was aware of its durability. It wasn't the kind of ship whose engines would suddenly  _explode_ like that.

The word  _sabotage_ crossed Danse's mind, and Giskard heard it.

Of course, they both thought. There had even been an announcement on the radio about it - the threat, and a taunt directed at the General, telling her she wouldn't be able to save everyone.

Well, she had tried her best. Less than fifteen casualties could be considered a win in that situation, for sure. Proctor Ingram's condition was a bit touch-and-go, but she had survived the initial blast, at least.

Danse sighed. He wondered what would have happened to him, had he still been with the Brotherhood. Would he have been on the ship during the attack, or watching helplessly from the airport? Or maybe somewhere else entirely, on a scouting mission, but just as helpless? All things considered, he wasn't really surprised that Nuke had tried to warn everyone. She didn't like the Brotherhood much, but lives were lives.

Giskard's tail wagged, sensing Danse's affection for his wife as well as his former comrades. No matter what, the Brotherhood had been the ex-Paladin's home for so much of his life. Giskard understood how impossible it was to shake that kind of loyalty completely.

And Danse could tell that he understood. He may not have been the biggest fan of sentient machinery, but he had grown fond of the strange creature. He saw how the "dog" played with his daughter, but protected her and the rest of his family so fiercely.

Though he hated to admit it, Danse knew that he and Giskard were more similar than he originally thought. And it had nothing to do with the chip in the former's head, or whatever it was that made him a synth.

Loyalty. Devotion. Love for those around them.  _Those_ were the qualities they shared. They were both tough as nails and would do anything to protect what they believed in, and who they cared about.

Danse lowered himself to the ground and sat cross-legged on the shore, gazing out at the Prydwen's remains, and also beyond it. In the distance, the lights at the airport were beginning to flick on as the sun slowly set.

Giskard laid beside Danse and rested his heavy head in his lap. He, too, was watching where the Prydwen laid, but his attention was on something else. Though he had heard Danse's thoughts as he approached, his excitement hadn't been able to mask what else he heard coming from the direction of the airport. Someone else, though he couldn't discern who. But it was a synth voice, for sure.

Huffing in frustration, Giskard resigned himself to keeping Danse company for as long as he needed.


	12. Yellow Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashing back to A Spark Among Embers times and tone.

Diamond City was a lot. Everything smelled like metal and smoke. Even Takahashi's noodles kinda tasted like both.

The little house I shared with Piper and Nat barely helped. Noise went right through the aluminum walls, though I learned to sleep through it pretty quick.

Nick's place smelled even more like smoke, but the more I visited, the less it bothered me. I had no idea whether it was me getting used to it, or him smoking less after I complained the first time. A habit, he told me. It obviously did nothing for him, but if he  _was_ doing it less for my sake, I appreciated it.

"Gotta take care of those little pre-War lungs of yours," He said to me once, with a characteristic smirk. His eyes always got a little brighter when he said something like that.

Unlike most people in Diamond City, I liked just looking at him. He was so interesting to me. It wasn't like I had any real memories, but I knew for sure that I had never seen anything like him before. And somehow someone like him, looking so alien compared to even the weirdest thing in the Wasteland I found myself in, brought me comfort. It wasn't so much the people - they weren't really different, as far as I could tell - or even a vaguely familiar vehicle on the side of the road... No, it was the  _synth detective_ I was most attached to.

He listened to me whenever I needed someone to ramble at. Maybe our situations were a bit similar - me with no memories, but being pretty sure I was some kind of weird experiment, and him, having memories he barely recognized put into his head, and basing his whole life on that.

But he was someone different than the "original" Nick Valentine. I wondered too if I was someone different than the "original" Nuke - someone I'd been before the war, if she was even called by that name. I had no way of knowing, and probably never would.

When I gave up on trying so hard to figure out who I was, it was Nick who encouraged me. Piper too, of course, but Nick was the one awake at three in the morning to listen to my sobbing. He was there to tell me that maybe, just maybe, it didn't quite matter who I used to be. Maybe where I came from had no effect on who I could  _become._

It was a little dramatic for me to take seriously at first, but his glowing yellow eyes were the only light in that dim room at such a ridiculous hour.

He reminded me of the work I'd been doing in the city. Fixing peoples' houses, cleaning up the water, going out and finding food and supplies... That was how I'd spent most of my days, and it fulfilled me. I just hadn't realized at the time. It felt good to help people.

"You were probably like that before, too," He told me, looking serious but sounding uplifted. "I doubt even the Institute could  _experiment_ away just how damn helpful you are."

Helpful. Useful in a good way. That's what I wanted to be. It was what I thought the Brotherhood was, when I was with them. I wasn't sure how it took me so long to realize that they were, usually, just looking down on everyone else.

Well, most of them.

Thinking about Danse made my heart ache, and I let my head drop to Nick's desk. I flinched when I felt his metal hand on my back, but didn't protest further.

"I bet someone like you could even change the Brotherhood," he said.

I wanted to scoff.  _Nothing_ changed the Brotherhood. Hadn't one of the Elders already tried? Danse had told me about him - Owyn Lyons. There sure had been an attempt, and the rest of the Brotherhood let him know how they felt. Not great.

But when I turned my head on its side and looked up at him, his eyes brought back that comfort. Staring at him, I truly believed I  _could_ do something like change the Brotherhood. Maybe the whole world. Feeling that yellow glow on my face, I was filled with ideas and hope. Imagine being able to help  _so many_ people...

"Why don't you get some sleep, doll?" He was already helping me up, and he could tell I didn't have the strength to make it back to my place. 

In an exhausted daze I felt myself being set down onto a rough bed and covered with a rougher blanket. I just sighed as he gently touched my head.

Was it Nick's voice that assured me I'd be alright? Or was it from my own thoughts? As I drifted off to sleep, I realized it didn't really matter.

One thing I could trust for sure was that those yellow eyes would be waiting for me, whenever I woke up.


	13. The Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could've done more with this but I feel like I've exhausted everyone already with how much I don't shut up about Far Harbor, lol.

It felt like a lifetime since Revy had last visited the Island. When she stepped onto the warped dock, someone greeted her with warmth despite the dreary atmosphere. The condensers kept the  _radioactive_ fog at bay, but the regular stuff still had a habit of choking up the harbor.

The actual town of Far Harbor was more lively, and had expanded. People were smiling even without any sunshine. There were less and less monsters bothering them, they told her. And the trappers were all gone, as far as they knew.

As usual, she wish she'd brought a coat, but now she had to live with her choices. The chilly air clung to her exposed arms and legs; her parents were never fans of how she always dressed, with her ratty purple vest and jeans converted into shorts via knife, but it didn't matter to her. She hated feeling restrained. That was her excuse, anyway.

"Just stay away from the Fog," her father had told her with a resigned tone before she left, deciding to go on her own, without even Giskard at her side.

She loved her parents dearly, and knew her father was just perpetually worrying, so she assured him that she would.

Her mother had given her plenty of lectures about the Fog, too. The Island was a beautiful place that was very special to General Nuke, but it wasn't without its dangers. The Fog was radioactive, of course. It burned your skin like a hundred hot needles and tasted like metal. Staying in it too long made you sick. Even power armor couldn't completely protect you from prolonged exposure.

So, just like any other radiation, except it was visible. Convenient, Revy thought.

The path to Acadia was lined with condensers, but Revy could have found her way with her eyes closed. Even if it was the first time she'd visited since the destruction of the Institute, the layout of the Island stuck in her mind like it was adhered with Wonderglue.

When she thought about it, she realized other places were like that, too. She remembered a whole lot for someone whose brain felt loose in her skull half the time.

Just beyond the condensers, the Fog crept at her. It floated and wavered like an anxious spirit, like it wanted to reach out and grab her.

A couple times, she stuck her arm out into it just for fun. If she got sick, it wouldn't be something a little Radaway couldn't fix. That stuff seemed to make her sicker than she ever felt from a feral ghoul bite, though.

To her surprise, it didn't hurt. No burning or tingling, and certainly no metal in her mouth.

She shrugged and moved on. Just like the ghoul bites everyone was so scared of.

The areas people hadn't reclaimed were filled with wildlife. There were more radstags than Revy had ever seen before. Still mutated, and worse-looking than the ones back at the Commonwealth, but they had a sort of charm. She liked the glowing ones, with their protruding fangs and four shining eyes. Before, they had been much more aggressive. But it seemed like the Fog was having less and less affect on them, at least mentally.

One almost got close enough to touch, but that time she held back.

She was about halfway up the mountain when she stopped and looked off to her left. The place stood out to her even though it was unremarkable to most - it was the place she had first told her mother about the lion she was seeing. She expected to see that ghostly form sitting where she'd seen her before, but of course, nothing was there.

_But,_ Revy thought,  _She'll probably be waiting for me back at the Castle._

The lion was only half of why she was visiting. She took a breath and kept heading up the path.

Acadia's gate was open, welcoming. There were more people, and shop stands  _outside;_ she even saw some visitors from Far Harbor. Plus at least one Child of Atom, which was something she'd never actually seen in person.

She tried not to stare, but the Child noticed her and smiled.

"Oh, greetings," the young man said, his face surprisingly warm. "The people of Acadia, here on this mountain, are quite kind. They welcome people like us."

Revy's brow furrowed as she tried her best not to be rude. She settled on a "Yeah, sure," and walked past him toward the observatory. She swore he kept talking as she left, but she couldn't make out the words. Something about a gift. Annoyed, she mentally remarked that she seemed to have quite enough  _"gifts"_ of her own. Her left eye, hidden under her hair, suddenly felt irritated.

When she saw Faraday, she wanted to run and hug him, but something about her encounter with the Child of Atom had ruined her mood. So when he greeted her, she could only respond with a demanding question:

"Why didn't the Fog hurt me?"

Eyes wide, he almost dropped his clipboard. With a resigned sigh, he glanced back toward his laboratory. "...If you want, I can try to explain the answer to you."

She nodded and followed him.


	14. Ghoulified

THERE'S NOTHING HERE!

Sorry I can't do this one.


	15. Ad Victoriam

She hated anything around her neck. The chain felt heavy and irritating, and she kept tugging at it as she walked along. Alone. It had been almost a week, and she was still pawing at her neck at every opportunity.

At least it kept her busy. Her gaze was set firmly west, and she made progress with every step. Without Giskard, without anyone or anything for any kind of company... it was lonely, and boring. The only person to talk to was herself.

So, she started talking to the tags around her neck.

Two big metal holotags dangled at the end of the chain. Most of the time, she kept them tucked into her vest. She hated the noise they made and how they banged against her chest if she decided to run. But more and more she would pull them out, clutch them in one hand, and talk to them.

The tags read very clearly: Sarah Lyons. They had once hung around the neck of the infamous Sentinel herself, but now they were being clutched by some Wastelander rat.

"Is that how I see myself?" Revy asked out loud as she marched toward the sunset. "Compared to you, that's all I am, right?"

Of course, she received no answer, but she kept walking. And talking.

"So why'd you give me these?" The question made her feel sick. She had asked so many, most starting with the word "why", back when she first received them. But there was no time, don't worry about it, you'll understand eventually.

"I  _don't_ understand," She snarled. Almost a whole week, and she didn't get it yet! With  _her_ track record, that meant she  _never_ would. It was why she gave up on so many things, like firearm training with her father. Knives were  _so_ much easier.

Her mind wandered back to the Commonwealth for a moment. The sun looked the same from back in Boston - still bright. Still warm. When she got out to the Mojave, would it still be the same? She was told that it would be, at the very least, a little warmer.

She wanted to hate the tags around her neck. She fantasized about ripping them off and stomping them into the ground, burying in the sand like they deserved to be. Because the Brotherhood was nothing but bad news to her. Every mention of them made her show her teeth and want to growl.

So why couldn't she? She hadn't even  _tried_ to take them off since they first went around her neck.

Something about them brought her  _comfort,_ and it made her feel even sicker.

_Why_ , asked all her unanswered questions.  _Why me? Why any of this?_

The apparition of a woman with piercing blue eyes never answered her before vanishing.

But maybe it didn't matter. Maybe she never got answers because the  _what_ was more important.

Revy ran over what she knew in her head. She knew she was headed to a place called the Mojave Wasteland, near a pretty well-off city called New Vegas. She knew what her mission was, and what she had to accomplish.

Maybe that was all she needed. She thought about her father, being in countless situations like this: the  _why_ doesn't matter. Sometimes, he would need to simply be a good soldier and do what needed to be done.

She relaxed her grip on the holotags and tucked them back into her vest. With a sigh she released her pent-up frustration. It burned her from the inside to say it, but under her breath she whispered, half to herself and half to the metal around her neck:

"Ad Victoriam."


	16. Poisoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uhoh sisters

Don't you see what's happening? How things have changed?

When we came to the Commonwealth, there was a clear mission. What has happened to it? Where has it left us? The answer is that now we are without our airship. We are in disarray and have lost too many good Brothers and Sisters. Our organization is in shambles, but why?

We have only one person to look to in these times - our Elder. Maxson has led us through hell and high water to where we first arrived. But where are we  _now_ ? Grounded. Weakened.

Our enemy, the Institute, was defeated by a traitor. A shameful woman who deserted us, and dared to return to defend  _another_ traitor. She resides across the harbor from us, living among her pathetic imitation of an army. She worked with the Institute for some time, we now know. And she helped their creations - the synths - escape and infiltrate the populace of actual humans. She claims to want to help the people of the Commonwealth, but what is she  _really_ doing? Unleashing machines masquerading as men can only bring ruin.

Again we look to our Elder. It was a miracle he survived the Prydwen's crash, and it was due to that woman. The "General", she calls herself. Is that why he refuses to act? Is that why he allowed us to become so downtrodden and pathetic, yielding to the scattered sham forces of the so-called "Minutemen"? He feels he owes her his life - after all, she betrayed us, yet returned to warn us of danger.

But it's obvious she wishes to help no one but herself. She guards that synth traitor with her life and would kill a real man for it in an instant. She attacked the Institute after an event that insulted her personally - before that, for so long, she left them quite alone. Should our Elder not wish to stomp out such a dangerous ember, one that threatens to spark a wildfire of chaos?

When he became Elder, Maxson brought those who called themselves Outcasts back to the Brotherhood. They strayed not because of their own failures - no, the Brotherhood itself had failed and lost its purpose. Under Elder Lyons and his quickly-fallen successor, the Brotherhood became a mockery of what it once was. Elder Maxson began his term of leadership with promise of repair.

And for what felt like so long, it wasn't a lie. But it has become one.

Once again the Brotherhood finds itself falling apart. Instead of keeping technology out of the hands of those unworthy of our grace, we have been helping them. Cleaning their water, powering their new homes... These are resources that should stay with those who found them. The Minutemen don't understand that; they can never grow to any true strength if they waste their time helping those who have never been able to help themselves.

So I say to the Outcasts... Do you feel splintered once again? Do you feel the Brotherhood straying as it once did? Surely, some of you remember. Surely, some of you must feel that rage boiling to the top again. As Lyons lost his way, Maxson is losing his as well. The other Brotherhood chapters recognized it in the time of Lyons. It is time for us to recognize it within ourselves.

I implore you to follow my leadership. Together, we will show him the true strength of the Brotherhood's potential.

Maxson's reign has failed and ended. The time has come to purge the spreading poison of the Commonwealth from our Brotherhood, and return to our rightful place in supremacy.


	17. Nor'easter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I probably would've been able to write something better during Storm Season! Sorry

The first snow in fifty years fell in pounds. From Far Harbor to the westernmost edge of the Commonwealth, people stared at the sky in awe at something many had never seen.  
Those within the Castle were safe from the howling winds and the biting ice they threw. Outside, Minutemen took shifts making sure generators stayed functional and the power lines were unencumbered.  
The General was in the main meeting room, with everyone she considered family. Several trash bin fires were kept around the room for warmth and stoked regularly.  
Revy and Leo were more curious than they were cold. They were standing together on a table pushed against the far wall, struggling to peer out the window. Though Leo was younger, he almost matched Revy's height.  
Watching over little ones in addition to everything else was quite the task, but their three collective parents accomplished it well. Despite Revy's violent outbursts and Leo's debilitating shyness, the two were relatively well-behaved. If their parents were busy, they always had Giskard to look after them.  
The mechanical dog was "dozing" in the corner; idle, but still keeping an eye on everyone in the room.  
"We have to wait this storm out," said the General to her children. "But after it's over, I promise you'll love it outside."  
Satisfied, the kids climbed off the table and huddled near the fire. Patience wasn't Revy's strong suit, but she was willing to make sacrifices for her little brother. If he had to wait, so would she.

The snow didn't bother Giskard, but he wasn't quite sure what to think of it. His sensors told him it was water, but was it really? It looked so different! When he glanced up and saw Revy and Leo happily playing in it, his worries subsided. They didn't seem at risk for drowning in the stuff despite its composition.  
The two children piled up the snow in a vague shape, then placed a smaller one on top of it - complete with what appeared to be a snout.  
"Look, Giskard!" Revy called, gesturing to the almost formless lump of snow. "It's you!"  
He cocked his head, not understanding. But they were having fun - happy, laughing, tumbling in the snow - and that was all that mattered.  
Meanwhile, the General was focused on the workings of the Castle. She had to explain snow to everyone - most had never seen it. Maybe a flake or two on a strangely cold day, but the last real snow had been before most of them were born.  
Soon, of course, she was urged to sit and rest. Getting around was difficult enough for her now, and the snow made it worse. So she sat next to the only other person who remembered the way things used to be - Nick.  
The two playfully reminisced about times they couldn't quite recall. Snow was more common, for sure. Was it? the General asked, and Nick answered, Who knows. Maybe the Institute made that up for me, too.  
As usual, Giskard noted, there was much peace following the storm. A bit of cleanup, sure, but now everyone was relaxed and smiling. He easily detected these patterns in his short life, and sometimes he wished he could truly explain it to everyone when they struggled. He knew that, throughout history, there had never been a storm that did not end.  
And he hoped that someday, the two-leggeds would come to understand that, even if it was without his help.


	18. Chem High

"Can someone help her? Please." He didn't want to sound too panicked. He listed off the positives quickly in his head: she didn't weigh much, Freeside had been close by, and someone had very quickly pointed him to where he could get help.  
The woman at the entrance to the nearest tent cringed, but ushered them inside. "You're maybe the tenth patient in the last hour," she said, obviously exasperated. "How bad is it?"  
"I don't really know."  
The woman helped get the "patient" into a bed and quickly assessed her. "Head wound," she noted. "You got quite the lump, here, but you're not really bleeding anymore."  
"My head hurts," Revy said, staring off into a corner of the tent. "My arm," she flailed it, then flinched. "Ow. That hurts too." She turned her spinning head to look at her companion. "Boone..." She squinted. "There's two of you."  
"...She got hit really hard." Boone clarified. "With a rock." He decided to leave out that the whole situation was her fault, after she tried to climb an obviously unstable cliff.  
Revy was vaguely aware of her surroundings. A nice lady tucked her into an okay bed, then called for someone named "Gannon" to help, because she was busy. Or something.  
A very annoyed sigh was heard outside the tent before a tall, bespectacled man entered. He looked from Boone, to Revy, then back to the door. "I really don't feel like-"  
"Too bad!" Was the response.  
He sighed again and approached the bed. "Look at me," He said to Revy, and held up one finger, moving it back and forth in front of her. "Watch my finger, okay?"  
She didn't move. "There's too many."  
The man stood straight and pinched the bridge of his nose, disturbing his glasses. "What happened?" He asked, in the most annoyed possible tone.  
"She hit her head."  
"With what?"  
"A whole cliff."  
"Okay." He seemed weirdly satisfied with the answer, and pulled a syringe out of his lab coat pocket. "I'll just give her some Med-X and let her sleep for a while. She obviously has a concussion, so just don't disturb her."  
"Oh, no-" Revy protested at the sight of the needle - or more likely, two needles. "My dad says I can't do chems."  
"How old are you?" He asked as he jabbed the needle into her arm without any grace.  
She only answered with a shriek and a swift, surprisingly accurate punch to the man's arm.  
He didn't react and finished the injection. "There. You'll be fine, just stay there."  
But she was still screaming, swearing at both of the blurry, blond apparitions in front of her. "Don't you fucking do that!" She yelled, though of course it was too late. "Now I'm gonna fucking die!"  
Boone did his best to control her. He took hold of her un-poked arm and tried to settle her back down into the bed, assuring her that it was just a painkiller, and probably wouldn't kill her. He was used to Revy's outbursts, but couldn't rein in his concern for her well-being.  
Eventually, a minute or two after the man had exited the tent, Revy began to calm down. She clutched the location of the injection like it was a mortal wound and was far more concerned about the medicine than the actual injury on her head. But slowly, the pain started to subside. She felt her whole body relaxing, almost too much. She wanted to freak out again from the unnatural sensation, but found she didn't have the energy.  
"Just put your head down," Boone nearly begged, not wanting to touch her again. He returned to the chair beside the bed. "If you scream any more, they might kick us out."  
She looked at Boone. The edges of her vision were blurring, and it was hard to see him or his mirror image. "I liked that guy," She said finally. "He was nice."  
Boone stared. "You punched him and screamed at him."   
"Yeah," She laughed a drowsy sort of chuckle. "And he didn't care. Didn't put up with my shit." Her speech was slurring, and she finally put her head down onto the pillow. "I like him. Let's keep him."  
"What?"  
Already asleep with a smile on her face, she couldn't answer even if she wanted to.  
Outside the tent, still keeping half an ear tuned on his patient, Arcade Gannon rolled his eyes. Surely, the young woman was just delirious.


End file.
